Confessions and Drowned Sorrows
by D.B.R Hazlewoode
Summary: Simple oneshot that fits nicely in with yesterday's episode. What type of man was Kevin if he couldn't own up to his mistakes? Ryan forces himself to think alone after his gun turns up in a case.


_**A/N: Yesterday's episode is by far the best this season. It's certainly the best for Ryan! It was amazing to see the rang of the character put into full play last night. I love Ryan so much more now because he's so much more complex! (And then there was Espo, acting a fool. I almost fell out of bed.) So this is a little something that's been stuck in my mind. I couldn't sleep last night until I scrawled a couple lines. I guess this takes past somewhere during yesterday's episode. R&R and forever yours 'till the wheels fall off ;)**_

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><p>"<em><strong>Take this badge off of me, I can't use it anymore. It's gettin' dark, too dark for me to see, I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door. Put my guns in the ground, I can't shoot them anymore. That long black cloud is comin' down, I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door."-Bob Dylan<strong>_

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><p>He'd killed her. Perhaps not technically, but his guilt whispered to him that he was just as guilty as if he'd picked up the gun and shot her himself. How could he have been so <em>stupid<em>? Of course the gun would have shown up eventually, but...But what? He hadn't been expecting it? It had caught him off guard? He and been lazy, and he had been stupid, and now a girl was dead; killed with bullets that had been fired from _his _gun. There was no excuse for his carelessness. The blood was on _his_ hands, his and no one else's.

Kevin clutched his weapon in his hands and stroked the cool metal of the barrel with a single trembling finger. He knew how hot the metal would be to the touch after it was fired. He knew the slight kick and strangely satisfying sound the gun would emit when discharged. He knew his gun well. Letting the gun fall to the cushion beside him, Kevin closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander back to that night. Everyone had been so worried about him that he'd been swept up in their emotions, and he had lost sight of what was important; his weapon. His fingers found the can, and he raised it to quivering lips with the slowest of motions.

He'd seen them, the girl's parents. He'd seen them at the morgue. He'd wanted to say something, wanted to _express_ his guilt..his sorrow. But he hadn't been able to make the words come. He'd tried again, pulling the family's address and driving out to speak to them. But they'd looked so...connected, so together, that he couldn't bear to interrupt, even if it was only for a moment. And what kind of man was he if he couldn't even make himself apologize for his mistakes?

No matter how many times the detective turned the case over in his mind, he continued to come to the same conclusion: _It's my fault this girl is dead. _Granted, it might not have made perfect sense, but it was the only thing that made him feel any better about himself. Knowing. Accepting. And that was the hardest thing to do. And when his eyes registered the eerie flickering of the muted TV, and his body truly felt the effects of four cans of beer, and his heart felt the sickness of causing the end of a young life...Just holding the gun in his hands seemed entirely too tempting.

He reached out, and then brought his hand back. Esposito would miss him. He reached again, and withdrew again. Beckett and Castle needed him. He reached out a final time. Jenny would mourn him. His fingers closed over the gun with agonizing slowness, and he cradled the thing in his hands as if it might break. His finger curled over the trigger inch by painful inch, until it fell into a familiar position. He raised the gun and rested it against his temple. The metal was so blessedly cool against his flushed skin. For the first time since the entire ordeal had began, Kevin could breathe easy. He relaxed. He would pay in blood for what he'd done.

"Ryan?" The front door eased open, and his partner stood before him, half cloaked in the shadows. Resisting the temptation to ignore him, he opened his eyes. He opened his mouth, and again, no words would come; only a terrible, strangled sound. But Javier understood, and he reached out to grab his partner before he hit the ground. The gun clattered to the floor beside the two, unfired.


End file.
